One of the more irritating things about our wrecked culture is that anything worth having is only worth having if there’s a chance you might not get it because you’re not sexy/thin/famous/rich enough or if you don’t know someone who’s sexy/thin/famous/rich. This is particularly true on the coasts. While I don’t enjoy having to tout my credentials to get an appointment for a digital/rectal from the newest, hottest, gayest GP doctor in Los Angeles, I will do so because, well, he’s a doctor and it’s worth having a good one when you’re being probed. I do draw the line, however, when I’m asked to show my “portfolio” to a pet groomer, or when I’m trying to order a birthday cake from the nasty little queens at a certain bakery on Melrose (it’s a birthday cake, GET OVER IT), or, as the email response below illustrates, when I asked a friend for a referral for an electrician:

“His name is Mike. His wife’s name is Debbie. She’s probably the person who will answer the phone and set up the appointment. I used to work with her. She’s a bitch. But if you say you guys will have future work with major investment properties so that she sees dollar signs she’ll totally get you in and move you up on the list.”

Get me in and move me up on the list? For an electrical socket? Soon you’ll have to know Paris Hilton to get your trash picked up. Or, at the very least, Perez.

– Ray Cochran